


Five Times Nobody Came

by Lost_And_Longing



Category: Undertale, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst, F/M, Gen, Genocide Route, Guilt, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Neutral Route, Night Terrors, PTSD, Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Reader is Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-06-29 10:17:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15727380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_And_Longing/pseuds/Lost_And_Longing
Summary: ...and the one time someone did.Basically, you need help. It takes a dozen aborted timelines and a True Pacifist route to finally get it.





	1. Neutral Route

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? Another wip? Yep. I'm apparently completely incapable of finishing anything I've started, but really good at thinking of new things to start. #writerprobs
> 
> This fic is basically how I think an actual person would've reacted to the things Frisk does, because let's face it. No normal person can die dozens of times and make it out okay. This story will have some dark themes such as PTSD and depression, so if that's a sensitive topic for you, please be careful. I am attempting to make this as realistic as possible, and I'll be drawing on my own experiences with depression in order to do so. Hope you enjoy!

Darkness.

Pain.

Fear.

And-

Laughter.

"Don't you get it? There's no such thing as happy endings. This is all that's left!"

Light fading in. Gray overtaking black.

The world materialized around you for the eighth time. You came into yourself with a jerk borne from how you'd died the last time - thorns around your soul, choking it, strangling it, suffocating it to death.

The world sat black and lifeless, lit only by Flowey's stolen souls and the feeble light given out by the soul he would drag from your chest. A hollow echo of nothingness permeated the cold, motionless air. You could feel nothing except your muscles tensing, smell nothing except the sweat already forming on your brow, hear nothing except the pound of your pulse in your ears and Flowey, always Flowey.

Like clockwork, Flowey pulled your soul from your body.

Like clockwork, his manic laugh sounded through the blackness.

Like clockwork, the fight began.

The attacks were always the same: waves of white bullets, flamethrowers, bombs and vines and bullets. You always dodged them the same: moving between bullets, slipping past flamethrowers, scurrying through bombs. You always missed the same one. You never could dodge the vines.

Like clockwork, your health dropped. You realized you were exhausted even though the fight had just begun. 

Seven. Seven deaths. You'd never died so many times in a row. You'd never been forced back, over and over again, with no respite, no items, no determination to see you through...

No hope.

You ducked another vine, narrowly avoiding it in time. A Venus flytrap opened its mouth next to you and you leaped upwards, weaving between flies. 

You remembered each and every death. After all, it wasn't like feeling your life-force drain away and your soul splinter was easy to forget. You'd died once to a pair of Vegetoids in the Ruins - that was when you'd first learned about your powers. After that you didn't die again until Papyrus, and then only once. Undyne killed you twice. The CORE monsters killed you twice. Mettaton killed you once. Asgore killed you four times. 

Seven times, and you died at the same place over and over and over again. You didn't even know what the fourth soul looked like. 

You could feel it. Every time you died, your grip on this world slipped a little more. It was getting harder to fight. It was getting harder to remember  _why_ you had to fight. You just wanted this to stop, wanted this to be a bad dream you'd startle awake from and leave behind in moments. But this bad dream was one you'd never wake up from.

Flowey's mouth opened, shooting a brilliant white beam that caught you dead-on. Your soul shuddered and you fought back a cry of pain, watching as your health descended below half. You staggered and almost collapsed.

Why  _were_ you doing this? 

There was a moment of silence inside your brain, but finally you remembered. Your friends. 

You'd killed at first out of sheer terror and self-defense. You hadn't felt guilty, either, because they were  _monsters._ You hadn't even thought the majority were sentient, given that most of the monsters in the Ruins didn't know how to speak in any human tongue. After Toriel had told you that the entire rest of the Underground wanted to kill you, you'd cared even less about killing them back.

But then Papyrus had come along. He was so utterly innocent and sweet. You'd watched him cry after accidentally squashing an ant, and you'd realized that, even though a lot of the monsters had tried to kill you, there were some who were different. And those who weren't, you could befriend.

The thought of Papyrus fading out of existence, the thought of him never being born, the thought of never having to eat his terrible spaghetti again...

It filled you with determination.

You would beat Flowey, and you would save your friends. You squared your shoulders and saw your soul's red glow get stronger, echoing your decision. 

Bombs rained down; bullets raced towards you; flames danced around you. You gritted your teeth and endured. 

The fourth soul came forward. You ducked between words. They turned green and healed you, bringing you almost to full health.

The fifth soul came next. You ran between flames. They turned green and healed you, but only brought you to half-health. 

The sixth soul came. Their bullets were insanely hard to dodge and even harder to get, which meant you were healed almost nothing. Fear crept back into you, your hopelessness eclipsing your determination slowly but steadily. But you refused to give up. You simply refused.

Then, all of a sudden, the atmosphere shifted. The blackness lightened and a gentle breeze seemed almost to play around you. Above your pounding heart you heard something else, a quiet but powerful thrum. 

The sixth soul disappeared for an instant. The next, it was back, forming a circle with the five other souls. Their light washed against your face and you smiled for the first time in a very long time. 

They came and surrounded your fragile, injured soul. The glow surrounding them grew brighter. Green materialized in front of them, flowing into your soul. You felt the healing magic pour into you and strengthen you and you whispered a thanks, feeling your determination grow once more. It was time to end this, once and for all.

Flowey faded back in, seemingly unaware of what had just transpired. His barrage of attacks started up once more. All of a sudden they seemed so much slower. You lunged towards the FIGHT button. All of a sudden you were doing much more damage. 

Hope bloomed inside you, strengthening your exhausted soul. The souls were on your side, not Flowey's. A stream of green magic healed every hit you received. You were winning. 

And then finally you hit the FIGHT button one last time and watched in morbid satisfaction as the once-endless rain of attacks trickled to a halt.

"No...NO! This can't be happening!"

You let yourself relax, panting heavily. You couldn't believe you'd done it. You'd won. You'd actually won.

"You...YOU..."

Suddenly the world slid to a halt. 

FILE 3 LOADED

Flowey sneered at you. "You IDIOT."

A bolt of light burst from his mouth. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed.

A vine tore through your chest. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed.

A bolt of light burst from his mouth. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed.

A vine tore...

You screamed.

Over and over and over again, unrelentingly, you died. And died. And died.

And no one - not Papyrus, not Sans, not the souls - tried to stop it.

Then suddenly you were alive again, and your soul was throbbing, spasming, aching, at one HP but still there. Around you lay a ring of bullets and you swallowed. Hopelessness surged up inside you. Hadn't that been enough for him? Hadn't all those deaths satisfied him? Would he still kill you again?

Flowey's laughter sounded. "Did you really think you could defeat me? I am the God of this world. And you? You're hopeless. Hopeless and alone."

Your eyes flicked desperately from side to side, searching for the souls. Where were they? Hadn't they wanted to help you? Had Flowey killed them too? Or...or did they just not want to come?

You...you didn't want to be alone.

"Golly, that's right! Your worthless friends can't save you now. Call for help. I dare you. Cry into the darkness!"

You didn't want to be alone.

"'Mommy! Daddy! Somebody help!' See what good it does you!"

You were shaking, shivering in the unnatural cold. An aching chasm tore through your chest, a phantom pain borne from the many times you'd died. You curled up on the ground and fought back desperate tears. 

You didn't want to be alone.

You reached out a trembling hand and touched the ACT button.

...

...

...

But nobody came.

And in that moment, you realized that you were completely and utterly alone. There was no one else. No one else in the universe who cared if you lived or died.

The ache in your chest grew. You felt something deep inside you splinter, unwilling to face reality. You were alone. 

"Boy! What a shame!"

Alone. The cold crept into your heart.

"Nobody else is gonna get to see you die!"

The circle of white closed in, drawing nearer and nearer to your vulnerable soul. You just watched. You were the only one left to see it.

But then, just as the bullets crushed into your soul...they vanished. The agonizing pain disappeared with it. You clutched at your chest in shock, wide-eyed.

"What?" Flowey asked. "How'd you...? Well, I'll just..."

LOAD FAILED

You staggered to your feet. Could someone have come after all? Did Papyrus hear? Did Sans? Had they come to save you?

"Wh-where are my powers?"

The six souls appeared in the air. Disappointment lanced through you. They hadn't come, after all. But, at least...at least you weren't alone.

Brilliant flashes of light flew through the air, joined by Flowey's anguished screams. You shielded your eyes as the light grew blinding. A roaring gust of wind flew by your ears. There was a powerful blast of energy, and then everything stilled once more into blackness.

For a moment, as you opened your eyes and saw nothing, terror struck. Were you alone once more? But then as you strained your eyes, you made out the faint outline of something.

A flower.

Two buttons appeared to either side of you.

FIGHT     ❤     MERCY

You swallowed. Every muscle in your body ached. Your soul throbbed mercilessly from the echo of your myriad deaths. You were exhausted in every way possible and one step away from a breakdown. You didn't want to spare him. Not after everything he'd done. You wanted him to suffer just as much as you had.

But you knew, if you selected FIGHT instead, you'd never be able to face your friends again. So, through the roaring in your ears, you mustered your determination and selected MERCY.

"What are you doing?" Flowey's voice was suddenly small. Small and tired. "Do you really think I've learned anything from this? No."

You stepped to the right, selected MERCY.

"Sparing me won't change anything. Killing me is the only way to end this."

You selected MERCY.

"If you let me live..." Flowey's voice deepened, twisted into something sinister. "I'll come back."

MERCY.

"I'll kill you."

MERCY.

"I'll kill everyone."

MERCY.

"I'll kill everyone you love."

You took a deep breath. Hit MERCY.

For once, Flowey was rendered speechless. He gaped at you.

He looked horrible, almost as horrible as his Omega form but in a different way. There were cracks across his face that spread all the way to his stem. They looked agonizing, as if someone had systematically cut him into pieces. You swallowed and wondered what exactly the souls  _had_ done to him. From the cracks a dark, viscous liquid trickled down his body onto the ground. Blood, or whatever he had in place of it.

You selected MERCY. He stared at you.

"Why?" his voice was tiny and fragile.

MERCY.

"Why are you being...so nice to me?"

MERCY.

"I can't understand."

Truthfully, you didn't either. You didn't think of yourself as that nice of a person. If it weren't for Papyrus, for Sans, for Undyne, you think you would've killed him.

But at the same time, maybe there was some part of you that understood. Or a part of you that could understand, one day, given enough time. 

MERCY.

"I can't understand!"

MERCY.

Maybe you hit it because you'd learned what it felt like to be utterly alone. Because you knew that Flowey was utterly alone. Because you knew that, if you were alone like that for years, you weren't sure you'd have made it out alright, either.

"I just can't understand!" 

Flowey stared at you for a long moment, fear and confusion and pain on his scarred face. Then he turned and ran.

You stared at his retreating figure until it was swallowed by the blackness. Then you sank down, looked at the blackness around you, and began to sob.


	2. Pacifist Route

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING  
> For those who have potential triggers, I'm putting trigger warnings down in the end notes, so that people who don't need them won't get spoiled. If you have a trigger, please check out the end notes.

It was dark and it was cold and you were tired.

This time through had actually been pretty good so far. You'd done what Flowey suggested; not killing anyone, befriending everyone. You'd gotten to know the monsters a little better. You'd cooked with Toriel, spent a few days learning about sewing and knitting and the history of monsters. Even if you were closer to an adult than a child at nearly sixteen, Toriel had treated you like you were a child. Or rather, she treated you like you were _her_ child. Those few days had made it hard to tear yourself away, especially knowing the pain your departure would cause. But you had to do it.

You hung out with Papyrus this time around. He dragged you along to hang out with Undyne. The three of you nearly burned her house down, and then nearly did the same to Papyrus's once you tried cooking at his place for a change. You revealed the truth about anime, Undyne almost killed Sans by accident, and Papyrus got Grillby's to make up for it. 

Then Undyne convinced you to take a letter to Alphys. It turned out to be a love letter - awkward - and she thought it was from you - even more awkward. You cleared that up real quick. Undyne and Alphys confessed their feelings, and then...Alphys disappeared. Leaving only a note behind.

So now you're here.

You stepped out of the elevator you'd crashed in and looked around. This place, whatever it was, was surprisingly cold for being situated in Hotland. The hallway you stood in was dark and dingy and the air was sticky but not humid. The floor was not the kind of floor you would walk on barefoot, and you didn't want to touch the cracked, dusty walls without three layers of gloves.

The cold, passive silence of the place unnerved you, so you began walking. You looked warily around from wall to wall to ceiling to what lay ahead, and hoped there wasn't anything bad down here. Alphys needed help, yes, and you were going to give it to her - without dying, if at all possible.

You shivered. Truth be told, you had only died once this time around. Papyrus and Undyne weren't hard to beat once you got used to them, and Muffet was just a matter of outlasting. Mettaton had simply caught you off-guard. 

Dying was usually painless, true. But the process of dying was not. Even a relatively small hit to your soul knocked the breath out of you and gave tears to your eyes. In addition, the feeling of dying - the terror, the knowledge of what was happening - was hard to bear. You knew now that you would come back, but the horror of feeling your life drain out of you remained.

To be honest, you didn't know Alphys that well. Not as well as Toriel or Papyrus or Sans. Even though dying wasn't permanent, it was frightening and if you could get through this without dying, you would. You...really didn't want to die just to give Alphys the guts to talk about whatever 'dark secret' she was hiding. 

You started down the darkened hallway, rubbing your arms - whether to warm yourself or rid yourself of the sticky feeling in the air, you didn't know. A panel fixed into the wall lit up as you passed. You stopped, curious, eyes flicking to the green text.

_ENTRY NUMBER 1_

_This is it... Time to do what the King has asked me to do. I will create the power to free us all. I will unleash the power of the SOUL._

A sudden dread barreled through you. The text had no signature, nothing to indicate who it was written by, but the fact that this entire building was hidden right inside Alphys's lab? It could only be written by her.

You thought of the note, of how Alphys had talked about her mistakes. Of how much she regretted them. You weren't sure you wanted to know why.

You stepped past the panel and up to the next, heart thudding in your chest.

_ENTRY NUMBER 2_

_*The barrier is locked by SOUL power... Unfortunately, this power cannot be recreated artificially. SOUL power can only be derived from what was once living. So, to create more, we will have to use what we have now... The SOULs of monsters._

You felt sick. Was this implying that Alphys was going to attempt the equivalent of human experimentation, just to break the barrier? Was that what this building was, some sort of secret laboratory?

_ENTRY NUMBER 3_

_*But extracting a SOUL from a living monster would require incredible power..._ _Besides being impractical, doing so would instantly destroy the SOUL's host._ _And, unlike the persistent SOULs of humans...The SOULs of most monsters disappear immediately upon death. If only I could make a monster's SOUL last..._

The cold, clinical way the text described the situation was unnerving. The product of true apathy, or perhaps true desperation. You weren't sure which. You had encountered the monsters' desperation before - in the panels that lit up Waterfall, in the snatches of conversation you'd overheard. For Asgore, kind and gentle Asgore, to order Alphys to do this, spoke of a desperation so great it was almost unthinkable.

You shivered again and moved onto the next panel, fighting back your rising dread and nausea.

_ENTRY NUMBER 5_

You broke off abruptly, eyes running back to the previous panels. One, two, three. No sign of four. Had Alphys mislabeled this one, or had she taken out the fourth? 

_*I've done it. Using the blueprints, I've extracted it from the human SOULs. I believe this is what gives their SOULs the strength to persist after death. The will to keep living...the resolve to change fate. Let's call this power... Determination._

You clutched a hand over your chest reflexively. All the times you'd saved and reset and loaded, you remembered a distinct feeling. A resolve, like the text said. A will. A determination. How had Alphys managed to figure that out from a couple of blueprints and a bunch of dead souls? She was far smarter than you'd realized.

Turning from the panel, you strode down the hallway and made a left.

You soon found yourself in a new room. At the center sat a large, imposing door, four different colored circles gleaming in the dim glow of the place. There were fake plants in the corners, another note on the floor, and a vending machine next to the door. The atmosphere was, if possible, even grungier than it had been a few steps before. 

You gathered your determination and saved. There was a panel to the left of the door that you approached, but it merely informed you that the door opened into the power room. You turned, bent down, and examined the note. It was damp, the ink smudged and nearly illegible. The only thing you managed to gather was that the power was, indeed, out and that the elevator wouldn't start working again until you got it on. Great.

You straightened and considered your options. There was a hallway to the left and a door to the right. Which would take you to your goal?

After a moment's hesitation, you started towards the hallway. Maybe you were a coward, but you didn't like the idea of opening a door and being caught unaware by whatever was on the other side. So sue you, you didn't want to die anymore than you had to and this building seemed like something straight out of a horror game. You did not want to be jump scared if you could at all avoid it.

So you turned down the hallway, readying your weapon just in case. To your right another panel blinked into life.

_ENTRY NUMBER 6_

Well, it seemed like you'd chosen correctly. This panel must pick up right where the previous one left off.

_*ASGORE asked everyone outside the city for monsters that had "fallen down." Their bodies came in today. They're still comatose... And soon they'll all turn into dust. But what happens if I inject "determination" into them? If their SOULs persist after they perish, then... Freedom might be closer than we all thought._

You didn't even know where to start with that one. "Fallen down"? What was that supposed to mean? You'd heard Sans mention it once in passing, a joking tone in his voice as he laughed about how some minor inconvenience had made him want to fall down. Given the context, you now wondered if Sans had made the monster equivalent of a suicide joke.

Apparently, monsters who had fallen down slipped into some sort of coma right before death. Their families had, for whatever reason, shipped them off to Alphys for her to experiment on them. Living test subjects still, however close to death... You weren't sure which was more disturbing, that the monsters' families had thought it a good idea to send their practically deceased relations to the Royal Scientist, or that Alphys seemed to have no qualms with experimenting on their souls.

You turned away from the panel and kept walking. Every step felt heavier. You began to wish you had never come down here.

The hallway opened up into another room. A heavy, oppressive fog hung over it. Three operating tables stood at one end of it; as you approached, you could see some kind of residue lingering on them. The thought of what it could be made you want to throw up. Three sinks stood at the other end of the room. They looked filthy and rusted. A faint, putrid smell wafted through the air on the fog.

You forced yourself to step up to the next panel.

_ENTRY NUMBER 9_

_*things aren't going well. none of the bodies have turned into dust, so i can't get the SOULs. i told the families that i would give them the dust back for the funerals. people are starting to ask me what's happening. what do i do?_

You guessed that, for whatever reason, Alphys had skipped putting up entries seven and eight. It seemed it must be intentional - whatever had happened here, you wouldn't be getting the full story. 

In any case, what bothered you was how Alphys's text had suddenly gone into the lowercase. Monsters had a way of speaking where you could almost see their words as text - you'd always attributed it to their innate magic. Many monsters had different fonts or different ways of punctuation. You had a feeling it had something to do with their personalities. Papyrus, for instance, spoke in an all-uppercase, vibrant font that complemented his loud and vibrant personality. 

The only monster you'd ever known to use all lowercase letters was Sans. You'd never thought the usage was for a happy reason, and now that Alphys had suddenly slipped from proper grammar into all lowercase, that thought was confirmed.

You pursed your lips and stepped over to the sinks. No matter how rusty and filthy they were, you wanted -needed - to wash your hands. The very air revolted you. You turned on the faucet of the one furthest to the left, but nothing came out.

You'd just heaved a sigh - of course the sinks wouldn't work, the power was out - when a sticky, white substance began to drip out.

Your perverted mind instantly tried to make a joke about the entire situation, but as soon as the smell hit you, you could only step back and try not to throw up. It smelled like how you'd imagined rotting flesh would, except more sterile - like the magical version of what you were used to happening physically.

The white substance kept flowing out, growing bigger and bigger until it formed into what your horrified eyes realized was a  _creature._ It let out a hideous laugh and suddenly your soul was outside of your chest.

There were three monsters suddenly, all identical and all hideously deformed. You instinctively went to flee, only to find the button for it had disappeared. These monsters weren't letting you run away. You noticed to your horror that even the normal encounter interface was different. Instead of the monsters' names, there was only blank space.

With trembling fingers, you selected ACT. You clicked on the first monster, the one that went by 'A.' There were four options: check, item, stats, and cell. None of them seemed all that helpful, but you went for check anyway.

No data available, the text box read.

How- how was that possible? How could there be  _nothing_ on these monsters?

You didn't even get a chance to recover before they attacked. White dots surrounded you and burst in size, attacking you from all sides relentlessly. For a moment you were too stunned to move and your HP plummeted dramatically. Then you flinched back, desperately looking around you for help that wasn't there. A whimper sprang from your lips.

Your heartbeat picked up as your turn came again and you realized you had no idea what to do. Then you saw the encounter screen and on it, three words that burned into your skull.

But nobody came.

A feeling of terror like nothing else you'd ever felt before overcame you, and suddenly you were back  _there_ again.

It was dark and it was cold and you were tired.

Flowey's laugh rang through your ears, the pitch of his insanity echoing through the black nothingness of the void.

_"Golly, that's right! Your worthless friends can't save you now. Call for help. I dare you. Cry into the darkness!"_

You remembered the exact psychotic gleam in his swollen, monstrous eyes. The cold, motionless air against your skin. The agonizing pain in your hollowed out chest.

You began shaking, backing away from the three monsters in front of you. 

_"See what good it does you!"_

But nobody came.

_"Mommy! Daddy! Somebody help!"_

But nobody came.

_Your hand against the ACT button, trembling in exhaustion, in pain, in terror. A desperate cry for someone, anyone._

But nobody came.

You let out a sound somewhere between a shriek and a sob and collapsed to your knees. You only realized you'd hit a button when the monsters' turn came and the white dots surrounded you once more. You were still trying to force movement to your limbs when the dot expanded and hit you square in the soul.

_"You IDIOT."_

_A bolt of light burst from his mouth. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed._

_A vine tore through your chest. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed._

_A bolt of light burst from his mouth. Your soul snapped in two. You screamed._

_A vine tore..._

You screamed.

"Someone help," you begged in a hoarse tone, "please, please someone help, please, please help, please..."

On and on and on, until it became a stream of babbling nonsense, until some vague sense told you the monsters' turn had passed and it was yours again. You hit the MERCY button, hit it over and over and over again. Tears ran freely down your cheeks. 

_"Sparing me won't change anything. Killing me is the only way to end this."_

_You selected MERCY._

_"If you let me live..." Flowey's voice deepened, twisted into something sinister. "I'll come back."_

MERCY.

MERCY.

MERCY.

"Why isn't it working, why isn't it working, why isn't it why why why why-"

The names weren't yellow, why weren't they yellow, why weren't there even  _names,_ why couldn't you spare them, why why why why why this wasn't right this wasn't good you shouldn't be alone you shouldn't have to be alone  _cry into the darkness mommy daddy somebody help_

But

nobody

came

You tilted your head back and screamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> Trigger warning for flashbacks and PTSD. The flashback starts partway through the chapter and continues on until the end.


	3. Genocide Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you create a murderer?  
> Convince them that murder is right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for potential trigger warnings.

Somewhere in the midst of your screams, your hands found the reset button.

Somewhere in the back of your head, there was a voice.

 _"You are safe,"_ it said. It was soft and childish and soothing.  _"You are alright. They cannot hurt you anymore. Just breathe, just breathe, just close your eyes and breathe."_

You were still screaming, still lost in a tangle of vines and fear and laughter. The voice continued, still soothing and gentle, telling you that you were okay, you were alright, you were safe. No one would hurt you again. You had gotten yourself through it; you never had to go through it again.

Your screams slowly petered out, trickled down to nothing. Your throat was scratchy and painful. You opened your eyes slowly and saw the blackness of the Void, two shining buttons in front of you. The mere sight of them almost sent you back into panic.

 _"Deep breaths, just take deep breaths,"_ the voice said, and said your name softly.  _"You don't ever need to go through that again. Your nightmares are just nightmares. They will never haunt you again."_

You took a deep breath and held it, held it, let it out slowly. 

"Please," you whispered, not knowing what you were pleading for. "Please, please..."

 _"I can help,"_ the voice said softly. You were too exhausted to think anything except how badly you needed help.  _"I can make it all better, I promise. You will never be afraid again. Just let me have control, and I promise you will never be alone again."_

Never be alone. You wanted that. You wanted to sleep. You wanted to rest. There was no rest in the Void; there was no rest in the Underground, either. 

"Please," you said again, "I don't want to be alone. Please help me."

 _"Let me,"_ the voice said, and now it sounded strong and capable but still so, so gentle.  _"Give me control, and you can rest. I will take care of you. I promise you won't be alone."_

"I..." your voice was rough and raw and pained. "Safe, safe, I need..."

_"You are safe with me."_

"Promise?" you whispered, small and vulnerable. "Promise it'll be okay? Promise you'll let me sleep?"

_"I promise. You can rest now."_

"Rest...I want to rest."

_"Yes, go to sleep. I will watch over you."_

You felt something - some _one -_ brush through your mind gently. The horrible, aching pain in your chest and head faded into numbness. You became aware of your complete and utter exhaustion.

_"Sleep now. Everything will be better when you wake up."_

You closed your eyes and let your consciousness fade. 

 

* * *

 

You don't know how long you slept. It could've been hours, or days, or years. You buried yourself inside your mind, barricaded yourself from the outside world. The Voice helped. 

The Voice was always there. The Voice was always comforting. The Voice was always safe. It was your shelter from the storm, your help in times of trouble, your salvation. It was good and right and just in a world that was evil and wrong and unjust. It was perfection and beauty. It was your obsession.

You slept, and the Voice spoke. It told you about the horrible things people had done. It told you about the evil in the world. It told you that evil should be destroyed. It should never be allowed to hurt people the way that you'd been hurt.

And how could you disagree? Disagreeing would be saying that people should be hurt the way you had been. 

The Voice calmed you when your nightmares haunted you and vowed revenge on those who'd hurt you that way. The Voice declared that all those who'd hurt you should be destroyed. They should never have been allowed to hurt you the way you'd been hurt.

You couldn't disagree with that, either. Disagreeing would be saying that you should've been hurt. 

The Voice came to you one day, after the nightmares had ravaged through your brain and made you weak and terrified. It opened your eyes and showed you the Underground. It showed you the monsters, and it told you that they had hurt you. And for that they should be destroyed.

But they hadn't hurt you, you protested. Only some of them had. They didn't all deserve destruction.

But some of them could turn into all of them so easily, the Voice said. You felt its anger and shied away. Some was not all, but some was  _enough._  They all deserved to pay.

The Voice closed in around you, nigh-suffocating, and you realized: disagreeing would be disobeying. Disobeying - you didn't know what it meant, but a whisper in the back of your mind said  _alone,_ and you couldn't bear being alone again.

The Voice showed you the knife in your hands and told you to make them suffer.

So you did.

 

* * *

 

When you opened your eyes next, they weren't yours.

They were red.

 

* * *

 

There was dust on your hands and hatred in your heart. 

The Voice spurred you on, its timbre an inescapable death knell that echoed through your mind. It was a wordless chant, a tuneless song, a soundless speech that never left you. When you faltered, it impelled you on. You didn't dare look back or down. You kept your gaze forward.

Once, you came to yourself - at least, you thought that was what happened. You didn't even know who you were anymore. Were you anything outside of the Voice? Was the Voice just a figment of your imagination? Or were you perhaps just a figment of its? 

You came to yourself and looked down and saw dust everywhere. It coated your hands, your clothes, the knife in your grasp. It fell around you like ash from a smoldering fire. It drifted through the air like grave-bound snow. It hissed  _murderer_  as it dirtied your clothes, turning them black. Not victim, not even killer.  _Murderer._

The knife fell into the thick dust without a sound. You followed, and even you made only the barest thud when your knees hit the earth.

You had...had you? Had you...? 

You lifted a trembling, blackened hand. Was the dust on it real, or simply imagined? Were  _you_ real? Was there a single being out there, or were you simply alone? Had you truly killed-  _murdered-_

The hand braced itself into the dust and you leaned forward and retched. 

The Voice - the Voice had  _promised._ It had promised you rest. 

Had it lied?

You struggled up, terror and guilt warring in your chest. There was so much dust, so much grit coating you, coating your skin, your throat, your lungs, suffocating you, tearing you apart, clawing at you, screaming  _murderer, murderer, murderer._

The Voice had told you to do it. It had. It had. It had to have. The Voice had showed you the horrible things  _they_ had done, the horrible things  _they_ would do. The Voice had told you they deserved to be destroyed. It was right to destroy them.  _You_ were right to destroy them.

Had you destroyed them? Or had you murdered them?

_Murderer._

The knife was lying in the dust, once-shiny metal dark with dirt. The hand that had wielded it was dark, darker than dark, black but not from the dust. From death. From  _sin._

_Murderer._

This was wrong. You wanted rest, not slaughter. You weren't a murderer, you weren't a killer, you'd never meant to do this. You just wanted to  _rest._

_"What's going on?"_

You froze. 

_"Why have you stopped? Did I not give incentive enough?"_

You shuddered. You didn't remember. You didn't know. 

"Rest," you whispered. Then the word  _murderer_ tore itself from your lips, over and over again, a litany of horror and guilt.

 _"You dare disobey me?"_ There was now nothing sweet in the Voice's tone, nothing soft or gentle. Gone was the soothing song, replaced with grating anger. You cringed backwards into the recesses of your mind.

You were too late.

_"If you do not punish those who are evil, you are no better than they. You are the evil one. And evil deserves to be **destroyed."**_

Then you were lost.

And nobody came.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing left of you. No guilt, no suffering, no sin. Nothing. You were beyond pain, beyond fear, beyond reality. There was nothing, not even a void. You were nothing.

_(Murderer)_

There was blackness and death, but death was too kind a word. This was not death. This was simply  _nothing._

_(Alone)_

The Voice was gone. It had destroyed you and left nothing in the wake of its fury. It had laughed and turned you to ash and dust and taken your body for itself.

_(Someone, please help me)_

Distantly, you could feel the body that had once been yours. You could see through the eyes of what you had used to be. There were blue flashes and yellow flashes, bones snapping in two, relentless rage. But...

_(Nobody came)_

No. That wasn't right.

_But nobody came._

What did that mean?

You pushed through the nothing and dredged up distant memories. You had heard that before, you knew you had. Why had nobody come then? Why did no one come now? 

The Voice was there, you felt it. It was weaker now. You remembered what Flowey had said about loads tearing your grasp from reality away. The Voice had used your body to save and load. And it must've died many, many times. Was that why nobody came?

There was a moment of blackness, and then your body was back and the yellow and blue flashes were, too. You dragged yourself through the Void and hovered just outside of your body, terrified to alert the Voice of your presence. Terrified that doing so would turn you back into nothing.

There was a battle raging, a terrible one. There was a monster, a familiar one. You were too far into nothing to remember their name. Their eye flashed with blue and yellow and white bones flew from their fingers. You knew with a sudden clarity that you wanted them to win, not the Voice.

You crawled closer. You could almost feel where reality was. There was the almost-smell of blood and sweat and bone. There was the almost-sound of grating magic on magic. The almost-touch of pain right where the Voice's - your - soul was.

Blackness again. This time you felt the Voice falter as it dragged itself back into your body. Beneath the roiling hatred and rage you could feel desperation and fear. It had never lost before, not like this. It had never experienced pain like this before.

It was unfortunate for it that  _you_ had.

You braced yourself. You were terrified of succeeding - even more terrified of failing. But you knew this was  _wrong._ Whatever it was the Voice was doing was not the righteous judgment it had attempted to pass it off as. Neither of you were arbiters of justice. 

You were both  _murderers._

You huffed a hoarse laugh inside your head. Instead of the blind leading the blind, it was the murderer driving out the murderer. The lesser of two evils, you supposed. You didn't want to kill this monster. You didn't want to kill  _any_ monster. The Voice had no such thoughts. 

Fortunately, the monster it was faced against was more than a match. Blackness faded in once more, and this time you were ready. You reached out with everything you had and  _pulled,_  and suddenly you were something once more. Some _one._ Yourself.

"Sans," you said. Your voice was hoarse with disuse, unfamiliar to you. "Sans."

"back again, brother-killer?"

He stood across from you, cold and merciless. There was a hatred in his eye-sockets that you had never seen directed at anyone before. He raised a hand and magic flared to life and dragged your soul out with it. 

In the back of your mind, the Voice was there, shrieking but weak. It screamed death-threats, promised violence that made your knees weak. You desperately shut it out and turned pleadingly to the monster in front of you. 

"Sans, please stop, that wasn't me, I couldn't control-"

A dozen bones hit you. You cried out and staggered. The Voice was stronger, more vindictive now. _You'll be coming back soon,_ it said,  _and I'll have such a lovely welcome for you! I know what hurts you most -_ and then a flurry of images, each once specifically targeted to trigger you. 

"Please, please-"

You weren't sure who you were begging to stop. 

_"murderer."_

There was an ineffable agony and you were back in the Void.

The Voice was there beside you.  _Smiling._ It was coming towards you, and you could hear it whispering all the things it would do to you, all the things it had been looking forward to for  _weeks,_ things that would leave you sobbing and broken and destroyed like all the rest of the Underground-

You didn't hesitate. You turned and ran from it as fast as you could.

RESET

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if this is a trigger, but I figure it's better to be safe than sorry. There is some emotional manipulation. It's intentionally vague, but if this is a sensitive topic, be careful. This is probably the darkest chapter in terms of theme, so that also bears some notice.


End file.
